


Dutch Oven

by anais_ninja



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Boys Being Boys, Established Relationship, Farting, Future Fic, M/M, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 22:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1178932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anais_ninja/pseuds/anais_ninja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin.  Derek and Stiles in a Dutch oven war.  Some one mentioned it on tumblr, and I thought it was needed after "Riddled".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dutch Oven

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I'm still trying to get in the swing of writing again, and this is my first attempt at humor lately. Try to enjoy.

Several things seemed to happen all at once in the moment between blissful sleep and the full-throated holler of “God damn it, Stiles!”

All Derek really knew was that he woke up with the space next to him empty (but still, revoltingly warm), the covers over his head, and an almighty stench permeating his senses.  There was also gleeful snickering somewhere from the other side of the room.

 

The first time Stiles had farted in front of Derek had been while Derek was hiding out in the Stilinski house.  Derek was asleep on the floor when a sudden, subtle emission of air from the bed above him made his eyes go wide and round.  If Stiles even knew about it, he never said anything.

 

The first time Stiles had farted in front of Derek while they were dating was almost cute.  Nothing gross.  They were spooning in bed, watching The Daily Show, and it was as though there was a brief, warm breath on Derek’s thigh.

Both of them froze, and Derek could feel Stiles’s pulse jump into overdrive. 

He couldn’t help it.  He really knew he shouldn’t.  Derek laughed, long and loud.

A wretchedly embarrassed Stiles ran and hid in the bathroom.

It took Derek half an hour of apologizing to get him out again.  It might have taken less time if he had been able to keep a straight face.

 

The first time Stiles had pulled a “Dutch oven” on Derek was the next morning, and thus a war began.

The best nights, or the worst depending on whom you asked, were the nights after the full moon.  Derek often hunted on full moon nights, eating raw rabbit and sometimes deer.  Nothing like half-digested protein to make your partner gag.

But if Derek had fire power, Stiles had timing.  Somehow he could sense just when Derek was most relaxed, just when he had fallen asleep, or just when he was about to yawn himself awake.  Yawning made it so much worse.  So much worse.

 

On this particular morning, Derek had been half-asleep, half daydreaming.  He wanted to wake up an kiss Stiles awake, then make waffles with whipped cream and strawberries, and then maybe make Stiles with whipped cream and strawberries too. 

But no.  He woke up with ears full of giggles, mouth full of blankets, and nose full of ass.  It was not to be born.  However musical the giggles were.

“Come on, Sourwolf!  I know you want to make me breakfast.”

Growling, Derek pulled the blankets down and stalked into the kitchen.


End file.
